Happiest Place on Earth
by Brynn McK
Summary: Dawn thinks Buffy needs a break. She asks Spike to help her make it happen. Mostly fluff, with a little angst thrown in for contrast. (COMPLETE)
1. Visitation

Disclaimer: I am not making even a shiny nickel off of this. Joss is God, I bow before his creative genius. I really do.

Rating: PG-13 or R, depending on your sensitivity to language

Feedback: Makes my day, positive or negative. Here or at tmeyerswa@yahoo.com

Spoilers: Everything through _Doublemeat Palace_

Summary: Dawn thinks Buffy needs a break. She asks Spike to help her make it happen. Mostly fluff, with a little angst thrown in for contrast. I miss the Spike/Dawn interaction!

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The sound of his crypt door scraping open brought Spike awake instantly. _Impossible to get a good day's sleep around here_, he growled inwardly, reaching for his knife. He stood up in one fluid motion and began prowling silently towards the ladder. _Bad enough I've got the Slayer haunting my dreams, now I can't even get a bloody buggering sodding--_

Just then, the smell of hairspray and strawberry lip gloss penetrated the fog of sleep and profanity. He relaxed, grinning. "Down here, Bit," he called, wiping the smile off his face before she could see it. A man had to keep up his reputation, after all. He collapsed into a chair, slinging one leg over the arm, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. Good thing he'd taken to sleeping with clothes on, with all these visitors dropping by unannounced. Dawn appeared at the top of the ladder, rucksack in hand, looking tentative.

"Spike? You awake?"

"Nope, just doing a bloody good imitation of it." She made a face at him as she started down the ladder. "School out already?"

"Nope, just doing a bloody good imitation of it," she shot back.

He grinned, and she grinned back. It was surprisingly good to see her; she hadn't stopped by his crypt in weeks. "Saucy little chit, aren't you?"

"I thought that was what you liked about me." She took a seat in the chair across from him, looking around approvingly. "Looks good in here. This place _so_ needed a woman's touch."

It had been Dawn's mission, over the summer, to get him to spruce up his crypt. Finally he'd given in, just to get her to stop nattering about it. And he had to admit, it was good to have a few things of his own. Even if he'd had to steal them. "So, what brings you to the vampire's evil lair, pet? Did you just stop by to give me advice on internal decorating?" Then, more seriously, "Does big sis know you're here?"

Dawn blew her breath out between her teeth in a purely teenage scoff. "Yeah, right. Her head would probably explode if I told her. She's like the Nazi Mother of the Year these days. Wants to know where I am every second of the day. She might as well get me one of those little thingies they make convicts wear on their ankles, you know, so you can track them wherever they are?"

"She's just trying to take care of you, Dawn." He had yet to figure out what it was about Dawn that led him to spew ridiculous fatherly platitudes, but it happened more often than he liked to admit.

She looked at him for a second, disgusted. "You know, Spike, for someone who's supposed to be, like, this major rebel, you sound an awful lot like a boring old man sometimes. But," she continued quickly, as he narrowed his eyes at her, "Buffy's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Little brat. She knew exactly what would distract him from reminding her that, once upon a time, he used to eat smart-mouthed little girls. He sighed. "What about her?"

Her brow furrowed, and he softened in spite of himself. "She's… she's just so different now, ever since she came back. She never laughs anymore, and she won't let me even mention Giles' name, and sometimes I hear her crying at night, when she thinks I'm asleep. She just seems… lost. Empty. I mean, the robot was more human than she is these days. She's not happy, Spike."

"I know." The sky is blue; vampires like blood; Buffy isn't happy. Hardly news to him. Didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

"So help her."

His laugh was short and bitter, scraping his throat its way out. "I don't think she wants my help, pet."

"Of course she doesn't. But she needs it. Needs you."

This time, the laugh couldn't quite make it past the knot in his chest. "I think she'd beg to differ with you there."

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "Will you stop it? This isn't a pity party, Spike! I mean, we're talking major problems here! Something is really wrong with her, and I can't help, and Giles is gone, and I'm afraid if we don't do something she's going to--" She stopped abruptly, tears in her eyes. He wondered if hell, for him, was going to be an eternity of watching the Summers women cry. "She was going to jump, that night they brought her back. She went back up onto that crazy tower of Glory's, and she was going to jump. The only reason she didn't is because she wanted to protect me. Again." Her eyes blazed behind the tears. "I can't imagine what this is like for her. But I'm not going to live without her. Not again. I know it's selfish, but it's the way I feel."

He leaned forward, patting her hand awkwardly, feeling like a fool. "All right, Bit. All right."

"So dammit, Spike, _help her_." The resolve in her eyes was so familiar, that tone of command. _Bitty Buffy_, he thought, for probably the hundredth time, and had to restrain a fond smile.

"All right, General, what do you want me to do?"

She leaned forward eagerly. "You've got a car. You've got money. Just… take her somewhere. She needs to get out of here. Have some fun. She doesn't need to worry about protecting you or taking care of you, and you can fight together if you run into any oogly-booglies. She can relax a little, take a break from being the Slayer for awhile. I don't know of anyone else who could give her that."

He eyed her appraisingly. "Been thinking about this for awhile, haven't you?"

She gave him her patented understatement-of-the-year look. The general was back to being a teenager. "I cannot stress to you enough how _not_ fun things have been at Casa de Summers lately." She wrinkled her nose. "Besides, the grease smell is starting to get all over everything. Total yuck. We need at least a couple days for things to air out."

He chuckled, having experienced that grease smell rather intimately himself. "You should try it with vampire senses." Then, before she could dwell too long on the implications of that, "Well, Niblet, you've made your case. And I'll think on it. Now you'd better get home, before your sister finds you here and stakes me for corrupting the innocent."

Dawn snorted, but stood up. "Yeah. She comes home covered with unknown demon goo every night, we live with a magic-oholic, Xander's marrying a demon--and _you're_ the one who's corrupting me." She turned away, but turned back again almost immediately, eyes serious and pleading. "You'll do something? Soon?"

He rolled his eyes. "Tenacious little thing, aren't you?" Then, as she started towards him again, he held up a hand to ward her off. "Yes. I can't guarantee that she'll accept my help, but I'll try. I'll give it my best. Now shove off and let me get some sleep."

She grinned, and something eased inside his chest at the relief in her eyes. "Thanks, Spike." She stood there for a second, looking at him. "It's good to see you," she said finally.

He was glad he had no blood in his veins, otherwise he'd have blushed like the stupid sod that he was. As it was, he couldn't meet her eyes. He'd killed hundreds of enemies, including two Slayers, without batting an eyelash, yet suddenly he couldn't face one little girl. It was pathetic, really. "You too, platelet," he muttered.

She smiled, pleased, and headed for the ladder.

"Dawn." It slipped out before he had time to think about it. She stopped, one foot on the bottom rung.

"Yeah?"

"You're a good sister. And smarter than they give you credit for."

She gave him the close relative of the understatement-of-the-year look: the pointless-statement-of-the-obvious look. "Well, duh." She laughed, continued up the ladder. "See you later." She gathered up her rucksack, and a couple of seconds later he heard the crypt door scrape shut again. He settled back on his bed, hands behind his head, sleep forgotten as he pondered how he might help the woman he was supposed to want to kill.


	2. Persuasion

_Fucking hell, she makes me want to kill her sometimes_, he seethed as he stood in the Summers kitchen, clutching a still-smoldering blanket. The sun was just setting outside. _Spent a bleeding week sorting this all out, and now she's looking at me like I'm something she scraped off the grill at her posh new job._

"_What_ did you say?" That particular mix of scorn and threat was a Buffy Summers Special. It drove him mad.

So naturally, he did the one thing sure to drive her mad in return. He smirked. "You getting hard of hearing in your old age, Summers? I said pack a bag. We're getting the hell out of Dodge for the weekend."

He could practically see steam coming out of her ears. It was so much _fun_, winding her up like this. He hadn't meant to get into an argument, but she'd started it. As she so frequently did. She advanced on him, brandishing a wooden spoon she'd been using to stir the instant soup on the stove. "If you think I'm going to ditch Dawn and my job and everything else just to go on some little love jaunt with you--"

Leering. Ranked just behind Smirking in the List of Things That Send Buffy Round the Bend. "Not such a bad idea, luv, but that wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Sorry to disappoint."

She spluttered for a couple of seconds before taking a deep breath and fixing him with a long-suffering glare. "What. Exactly. Did you have in mind, Spike?"

Suddenly, he felt a nervous fluttering in the pit of his stomach. _Oh,_ _grow a pair, mate_, he told himself sternly. _You're taking her on vacation, not asking her to the sodding prom._ Covering his discomfort with another smirk, he pulled the brightly-colored tickets out of his pocket and held them out to her. "This."

She looked at them, then at him, then back at the tickets. He could almost hear the wheels in her brain spinning. Something clearly wasn't computing. Finally, she seemed to find her voice. 

"Disneyland, Spike?"

"Easy drive from good old Sunnyhell, innit?" He was beginning to feel like an idiot, standing there holding the tickets while she just stared at him. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea.

"You… want me… to go to Disneyland… with you?"

He snorted. "Yeah. 'Cause I hear the little kids turn out in droves to watch the flaming vampires. Good plan, brain trust." Then, as he watched the fire start to flare up in her eyes, he held up a hand. "Simmer down, Slayer. I'm just the chauffeur. The tickets are for you and Dawn."

And her eyes went all blank and questioning again, anger forgotten. She reached for the tickets, tentatively. "Dawn? Dawn loves Disneyland… Dad used to take us there every year, for her birthday."

"I know."

"How?" She looked up at him, surprised.

"She told me. This summer." He could see that threw her, too. This wasn't going at all like he'd planned. "Look, Summers, you need a break. The Niblet does, too. You're both working so hard to take care of everyone else, you don't take any time for yourselves." He lowered his voice, intent. "You're not happy, Buffy." Then he smiled tentatively, hoping she didn't notice that he couldn't quite keep the sadness out of it. "Disneyland's the happiest place on earth, right?"

She met his eyes again, clearly tempted. And clearly, though he could hardly believe it, touched. Once again, he thanked the gods he couldn't blush.

"Spike…" Then she shook herself. "I can't."

"Can't what?" Dawn's voice surprised them both. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and even though Buffy tried to hide them, it didn't even take half a second for Dawn's well-trained eyes to identify the tickets in Buffy's hand. Even Slayer speed was no match for teenage greed. 

"Disneyland!" Dawn squealed, rushing to Buffy's side and snatching the tickets. "What do you mean you can't? Buffy. You _so_ can."

"I have to work, Dawny--"

"Just tomorrow night. You can call in sick, just this once, right? You've been working all these double shifts, they can get by without you." 

"What about Will? I can't leave her alone," Buffy protested.

"She can stay with Xander and Anya. They won't mind. Xander's offered to help out with her before, you know that. It's only a couple of nights. And they could fill in on patrolling, too. Tell them we needed some sisterly bonding time. This is _Disneyland_, Buffy. Overpriced food, big funny animal costumes, rides, cotton candy…"

Spike could see the Slayer weakening. He knew first-hand how hard it was to say no to Dawn when she got that look in her eyes.

"Where would we stay?" she asked feebly, a last-ditch attempt.

"Got it all taken care of," Spike interjected smoothly. "Hotel not far from the park. Shuttle will take you there in the morning and back at night. Clean, safe, demon-free. Except for yours truly, of course. And," he continued as Buffy opened her mouth to protest, "Two rooms. I promise your virtue is safe with me," he added dryly, and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush.

Dawn didn't notice, fortunately, having got stuck on the word "shuttle." She was looking at him quizzically. "Shuttle? You aren't coming with us?"

"I sunburn easily, remember, pet? Besides, like you said, you and big sis need some quality time together. As long as I've got a window shade and a telly, I'll be sorted."

"Oh." Dawn looked disappointed, and he was foolishly pleased that she'd want him along. "Well, I guess we can hang out at night, anyway." She turned those puppy-dog eyes on Buffy again, full force. "Please, Buffy? I'll be good when we come back, I promise, I'll come straight home from school and call if I'll be out late and help with all the chores and--"

"All right," Buffy said quietly. Spike had to restrain a smug smile_. Caved like a… thing that caves easily_, he thought with satisfaction, only slightly annoyed he'd been unable to finish the simile.

Dawn froze in mid-plead. "What?"

"I said all right. Go pack. We're going to Disneyland."

"Yeeeeeeee!" Dawn screeched in incoherent glee and threw her arms around her sister's neck. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

And then it happened. Buffy smiled. A real smile, the first one Spike had seen out of her in months. It warmed his bloodless body right down to his toes, and he was sure, in that moment, that this had been the right thing to do. He was so distracted by Buffy that he didn't even realize Dawn had moved until he felt her arms around him.

"Thank you, Spike." She hugged him tightly. He patted her back uneasily, aware of Buffy's eyes on the two of them. Dawn lowered her voice, whispered right in his ear. "Thanks for letting me tag along. You didn't have to."

He squeezed her a little, by way of response, then pulled back. "Go get packed, sweet bit. The sooner we get on the road, the better chance you'll have of a good night's sleep. Big day tomorrow." Her grin was a mile wide as she skipped off towards the stairs. "Bring your schoolwork!" he called after her automatically. "You can work on it in the car!"

He realized Buffy was staring at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head. "What?" he asked defensively. "Did you think we just let her run wild all summer, while you were gone?"

"I…" She trailed off, totally at a loss. Finally, quietly, not looking at him: "Thanks, Spike. It's not easy to make her happy these days."

"You either," he replied, just as quietly. There was an awkward silence.

"Where'd you get the money?" she asked eventually, a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"I didn't steal it, Slayer, if that's what you're implying. One nice thing about all that shite Dawn convinced me to get for my crypt--gives me something to sell when I need a little cash. So no need to get all guilt-ridden. You're not benefiting from my ill-gotten gains."

A tiny smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. "And you got this… shite… how, exactly? Just happened to find it lying around?"

He grinned at her. "Cut a man some slack, luv. Points for effort, right?"

She laughed a little, wryly. "Right." Shaking her head, she headed upstairs to pack. 


	3. On the Road Again

Once he'd loaded up the old DeSoto with what he considered to be a mind-boggling amount of baggage for such a short trip, the drive went surprisingly quickly. He had been a little worried about what he and Buffy would find to talk about, actually--but he'd somehow forgotten that Dawn could single-handedly carry the conversation for all three of them. After she'd regaled them with versions of every song in the traditional Disneyland canon, from the grating "It's a Small World After All" to something involving a Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room, she then moved on to all of her gossip from school, her opinion of her teachers, and various theories on the inner workings of the world. Somewhere around the forty-seventh minute of nearly uninterrupted Dawn monologue, Spike was seriously questioning the wisdom of voluntarily trapping himself in a small space with a hyper sixteen-year-old. Still, overall, he supposed it was worth it to see her happy. And Buffy was relaxing, too, inch by inch, as if every mile they put between them and Sunnydale drew some of the tension out of her body. And that was, in Spike's world, unquestionably a good thing.

Both girls were sleeping now, Dawn sprawled across the back seat (seatbelt securely in place, at Buffy's insistence), Buffy curled against the passenger door. It was a strange feeling, having them both there in the car with him, knowing he was responsible for them, knowing they were safe. Every once in a while he took his eyes off the road to glance at Buffy, watching for any sign of nightmares. But she just looked peaceful, her long lashes resting on her cheeks, shorn hair spilling over the darkened window. Looking at her, he ached with the need to touch her.

_But you won't,_ he told himself firmly, wrenching his gaze away from her and clenching his jaw. _Even if it kills you--again--you won't_. He'd made himself that promise, even as he was planning this little weekend jaunt. This was supposed to be a vacation for Buffy, from everything in her life that was weighing her down. And, as much as he wished it wasn't the case, he knew that their… relationship, whatever it was, was one of the things causing those shadows beneath her eyes. So, even though he had no intention of staying away from her permanently, he'd promised himself he'd let it go for these two days, make things easy for her. It was the least he could do, seeing as part of her suffering was his fault--he had a feeling he'd spend a good portion of the rest of his unlife trying to make up for failing to keep his promise. Failing to protect Dawn. In any case, Buffy deserved two days of freedom, and he was going to make sure she got them. Even if it drove him mad with wanting her.

He pulled into the hotel a little after nine o'clock, let both girls continue sleeping while he checked in. It had been a long time since he had done something so mundane as checking into a hotel; it felt strange, and made him wish for half a second that he could be human again. Then, looking at the pasty-faced front desk clerk, he remembered--_Oh, yeah. Weakness, fear, pain, eventual death. Maybe not_. He almost smiled dangerously at the clerk, just to watch him squirm, then thought better of it; he didn't want to draw attention to them, or cause trouble for Buffy. Still, he was grinning as he headed back out to the car.

He slid into the driver's seat, reached over to touch Buffy's shoulder. She woke with a start, blinking fuzzily at him. "Spike? Where are we? Is Dawn--"

"Right behind you. Sleeping," he assured her quickly.

"Mmm." She was still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes like a child. "I thought… for a second… that night with Glory… and we were running…"

Damn, but she broke his heart sometimes. "You're safe, love," he soothed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, as he could see the alertness returning to her eyes, he withdrew his hand and tried to sound more businesslike. "We're at the hotel. Thought you'd rather sleep in a bed than in the car."

"Mmm," she said again. "Good idea."

She yawned and stretched, slowly, and lust shot through him. _Gonna be a long sodding weekend_, he thought ruefully, as he reached back to nudge Dawn. "Wake up, Niblet. We're here."

"Mmmph." She batted his hand away.

He shook her a little. "Come on, Dawn. Time to go inside."

She rolled her shoulder, snuggling deeper into the seat. "Doanwanna," she mumbled indistinctly. "Sleeping."

He sighed. It was going to be one of those nights, apparently. He levered himself out of the car, opened Dawn's door, and caught her as she slumped towards him. He unlatched the seatbelt and lifted her out of the car. She didn't even stir as her foot caught the side of the open door. "Sleeps like the bleeding dead," he muttered to Buffy, "and I would know. Good thing she's so light." She was giving him that appraising look again. "Get the door, would you, pet?" He jerked his head towards the car door, and Buffy slammed it shut. "Bags are in the back. I'll come back out for them."

Buffy didn't say a word, just followed him inside, into the elevator and down the hallway to their room. She watched in silence as he set Dawn carefully on the bed. He tried to tell her to stay put while he fetched the bags, but she just ignored him, heading back out towards the car. Finally, as they dropped the last of the bags on the floor of their room, she spoke.

"Spike."

"Yeah?" Truth to tell, he'd been a little afraid she was going all catatonic again. It was a relief to hear her speak.

She looked at him, hitching a shoulder. Looking incredibly vulnerable, though he knew she wasn't. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable. "I told you. You're not happy. Either of you." _Never been good at the touchy-feely stuff, have you, mate?_ "And that's my fault, at least some of it. I know this is hard for you to believe, but… I want to help you, Buffy. And… this is the only way you'll let me."

She just kept looking at him, till he couldn't meet her eyes anymore. Then, so quietly he might not have heard it without his enhanced senses, she whispered, "OK."

He cleared his throat. "Right. Well. My room's the next one over. Here's an extra key." He held it out to her, and she slipped it in her pocket. "I'll be right there if you need anything. Shuttle leaves every fifteen minutes in the morning, and here--" He shoved a small roll of cash into her hands. "For food, souvenirs, whatever."

"Food," she repeated, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "What are you going to eat?"

He grinned at her, glad for the change of subject. "Butcher shop down the street, luv. Refrigerator in the room. All the comforts of home."

"Oh. Good plan."

They stood there, the time stretching out, neither one speaking. Finally, he forced himself to speak.

"Well. Didn't get my beauty sleep today, so… And no doubt she'll have you up first thing in the morning." He gestured vaguely at Dawn. "Well." He realized he was making very little sense, told himself to wrap it up before he made even more of a fool of himself. "See you tomorrow night, then. Check in when you get back, so I know you didn't get ambushed by any nasties."

He turned, started for the door. Then he felt her hand on his arm, and she was turning him around, stepping into him--

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Virtue intact, remember, luv?" he whispered harshly. The two points of contact between them seemed to heat up instantly, and it cost him nearly everything he had to keep her those vital six inches away.

But it worked. She nodded, looking dazed, then nodded again. "Right. Sorry."

He smiled, and he was proud that it was only a little twisted with pain. "Right." He moved to the door again. "'Night, Slayer."

"'Night, Spike."

Out in the hall, he rested his forehead against the door briefly, trying to recover. "Good plan," had she said? _Oh yeah, brilliant bloody plan. Spend two nights one room away from a woman you love but can't touch. Hell of a holiday, that._

He yanked open the door to his own room, flung himself on the bed. Despite the fact that he hadn't slept in nearly two days, he grabbed the remote and switched on the telly. He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.


	4. One Good Day

He woke in the morning to the sound of his stomach rumbling. The clock by his bed said 9:36. The TV was still on, some revoltingly perky blonde yammering on about beauty essentials. He figured he must have drifted off sometime in the wee hours, somewhere between "Elimidate" and that 48-Hour Miracle Diet infomercial. Thinking of the word "diet" made his stomach rumble again. A quick glance at the window revealed light peeking through the closed blinds. Damn sunny California. He'd overslept, and now he was going to have to find a way to get down to the butcher shop and back without bursting into flame or otherwise drawing attention to himself.

"Bugger," he said feelingly. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger…" He was on about the tenth "bugger" when he noticed the note taped to the mirror. Curious, he rolled out of bed and crossed to it. He recognized Dawn's handwriting easily from their interminable summer-school homework sessions. Like pulling teeth, that had been.

_Spike_, the note read. _We didn't want to wake you_. The "didn't want to" had been crossed out, replaced by "couldn't," in a different hand. Very funny. He read on: _We thought you might be hungry when you woke up, so we made a stop at the butcher shop this morning before we left. Buffy said it was super gross for first thing in the morning, but I didn't mind. Don't watch too much TV, it rots your brain. And don't let the maid look in the refrigerator. See you later._

He just stared at it a moment, disbelieving. Then, almost hesitantly, he opened the refrigerator door. Sure enough, there was a small paper bag inside, and the smell of fresh blood wafted out to him. His stomach growled eagerly in response. The smile spread slowly across his face.

"Well," he said aloud into the empty room as he pulled out the container of blood and poured some into a glass. He stuck it in the microwave, punched a few buttons. The glass began to rotate merrily. He realized that, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he could think of absolutely nothing to say. He watched the glass going round and round. "Well," he repeated. Then, "Didn't see that one coming."

Shaking his head, he settled back on the bed with his glass of warm blood. They never ceased to amaze him, those two. Most of the time, it drove him up the wall. But this time, it was an unexpected gift. And he intended to enjoy that while he could. Still smiling, he tucked in to his breakfast. Almost as soon as he'd finished, he fell into a satisfied sleep.

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He'd been dozing again when the sound of his door slamming open sent him scrabbling for the knife that he'd shoved under the mattress. But it was only Dawn, launching herself at him with a shriek of "Spike!" and bouncing on his bed in a way that was making him rather swiftly ill. Suddenly, thankfully, she stopped, looking at him.

"What's up with your hair?"

Maybe the bouncing had been better after all. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, smoothing the platinum curls. "Been cooped up in this room all day, pet," he replied. "Isn't easy to stay all neat and tidy when you don't have a reflection." He darted a quick glance at Buffy, and sure enough, she was laughing at him. But he was surprised to see that, for once, there was no edge of malice to it. She was just laughing, teasing, like she would have with Willow or Xander. Her cheeks were flushed from being outside, and she was practically glowing with energy. The change made him smile, even through his embarrassment.

"Good day, love?" he asked her.

"The _best_," Dawn rushed on before her sister could answer. "We rode every ride, like, twice, and we got _totally_ soaked on Splash Mountain, and this cute guy at the Indiana Jones ride tried to hit on me only Buffy told him I'd been betrothed since birth--" she spared her sister a quick death glare, then continued without drawing breath--"and did you know that if you close your eyes, the Matterhorn seems like a really short ride? Not that I was scared or anything, I just wanted to see what it was like with my eyes closed. Oh, and here--I got you something at the Haunted Mansion." She dug into her pocket, and held something out to him. It was a small rubber bat, dangling from a flexible gold cord attached to its back. She wiggled her hand a bit, and the bat bounced up and down, rubber wings flapping. Dawn grinned, pleased with herself. "I thought you'd like it, 'cause, well, y'know. Vampires. Bats. Even though that's not really true." She frowned for a second. "Is it?"

"Nope. Myth," he forced out, still staring at the bat. This had definitely been a day for surprises. He reached out, took it from her finger. It bobbed cheerfully, painted fangs all askew. He realized Dawn was looking at him expectantly. "Thanks for thinking of me, Bit." This sudden onslaught of warm-and-fuzzies was throwing him for a loop. "And thanks for breakfast, too," he added, glancing up to include Buffy. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged, as if to say, _Not my idea_, but she was still smiling.

"So what did you do all day?" Dawn asked.

"This and that. Rotted my brain, slept a bit, plotted the next apocalypse. The usual." Then he smirked. "Worked my mojo on the maid when she came in, too. So busy staring at me she barely even tidied up, didn't even think of looking in the fridge. You human women are so easy," he added smugly, turning the smirk in Buffy's direction. She rolled her eyes. Predictably. But again, there wasn't any of the usual bite_. Should have thought of this months ago_, he thought, pleased.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dawn asked cheerfully.

"Homework," Buffy said firmly from behind her. Dawn moaned.

"_Buff_-fee…"

"_Daw_-nee. You promised. Disneyland, then homework."

"But Spike drove us all the way here, and we haven't seen him all day, and…" Her eyes lit with a sudden idea. "I know! We can work on it in here, then, right Spike? Spike can even help me. He's good with the English stuff," she added to Buffy, "probably because he's all, you know, English."

Buffy looked at Spike, hesitating. "Dawn, I don't think Spike really wants us to--"

"All the same to me, sweetheart." He shrugged, playing it cool. "Little bit wants to do her work in here, I won't stop her."

"Please, Buffy? And we can get room service? I _love_ room service," she told Spike, grabbing his sleeve for emphasis.

Buffy sighed. "You really take whining to a whole new level, don't you?"

"Learned from the best," Dawn replied cheekily.

"All right. Get your stuff. And you." She rounded on Spike, one finger held up warningly. "No distracting her with stories of your sordid past. She had nightmares for a week the last time."

"Silent as the grave, luv, cross my unbeating heart."

"Silent? You? _That_'ll be the day," she shot back, and was out the door before he could respond.

***********************

A few hours later, Spike was sprawled out on the bed again, surrounded by the remains of a dinner only Dawn could have envisioned: hamburgers, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, toast, and strawberry ice cream. With onion rings thrown in for his benefit. And green beans, the result of Buffy's last-ditch effort to include something nourishing. It was a bizarre combination, to say the least, and Buffy had turned a little green at the sight of the hamburgers, but they'd munched through the rest of it cheerfully enough, Buffy and Dawn giggling over their memories of the day.

Now they were seated at the small table in his room, dark and bright heads close together as Buffy tried to help Dawn work through a math problem. They'd asked for his help, but he'd never had much of a head for math, and so he was just watching them, one hand splayed out across his stomach, keeping an eye on the telly with lazy contentment. It was odd, actually, that doing nothing, that just _being, _could feel so good. He'd always been a man of action, happiest fighting for his unlife in the midst of an angry mob with his back against the wall. _Death, glory, sod all else_, he'd told Buffy that night at the Bronze, almost a year ago. And in general, that was true. But today was different, somehow. There was something about being with these two women, having them close, knowing they were happy and knowing he'd had something to do with it. Sure, some part of him still itched to do a little ass-kicking, but overall, he was as happy as he'd been since Dru left him. _Guess even the Big Bad needs a holiday every once in awhile_, he reflected ruefully. _Who'd'a thought?_

The change in Buffy was near-unbelievable. She was so open, so relaxed, that gut-wrenching sadness gone from her eyes. She was so bright it almost hurt his eyes to look at her, and yet he could still see the darkness in her, strengthening her, giving her depth. The balance seemed right, for the first time in months. And she'd been so easy with him, as if he were a friend and companion instead of some evil thing sent to add to her torment. She hadn't treated him that way since their little sing-along kiss.

He was already starting to dread going back.

The decisive snap of Dawn's book closing brought him out of his reverie. "Buffy, I'm not kidding," Dawn was saying. "My brain is full. I'm almost done, I can finish tomorrow."

Buffy sighed, stretched her neck to ease the stiffness. "Well, I guess it's getting late anyway." Suddenly she smiled at her sister. "You know, not to sound like Mom or anything, but you're pretty good at this stuff. You could get way better grades if--"

"If I applied myself?" Dawn finished for her, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, Buff, that line's only been used by, like, every parent since the dawn of time. Can't adults even come up with original stuff for their little pep lectures?" But Spike could tell she was pleased at the praise.

"Whatever. I'm just saying that you'd better get an education so you can get a fabulously well-paying job and support me in my old age."

"Is that supposed to be an incentive?" Dawn's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"It's supposed to be a fact. Now get to bed, if you're so tired."

Long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Hey, could you go get some ice from the machine? I get thirsty at night, and the tap water's never cold enough."

This time it was Buffy's turn for the long-suffering sigh, the exact mirror of her sister's. "You're awfully demanding for a bundle of mystical energy." She rose, stretched, and moved to the door.

"Thanks, Buff!" Dawn called after her cheerfully. As soon as Buffy had disappeared from view, Spike found himself, once again, with an armful of happy Dawn.

"Today's been perfect, Spike. Thank you."

It was a little easier when Buffy wasn't there to see them, but he didn't know if he'd ever get used to how expressive Dawn was. She thought it, she felt it, she acted on it. _Like me_, he realized, _if I was into hugs and puppies_. That was a weird thought. 

"Welcome," he told Dawn distractedly, still pondering that. She pulled back, and he hated to dim that glow in her eyes, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to warn her. "I don't think it's…"

"I know." Her eyes were serious now. "It didn't fix her for good. I'm not _that_ much of a kid, Spike. But it helped. Like she's been awake for a long time, fighting, and today she got to sleep. So maybe it'll make things a little easier, when she has to start fighting again."

He shrugged, hoping she was right.

"And Spike… I don't know what's going on between you two. I don't know if you're doing the horizontal tango or what, and--" she continued over his lame attempt to cover his shock--"I don't really want to know. I just wanted to tell you… I think it could be good. If she'd let it. So… don't give up."

He was speechless. For the second time that day. He wondered if that was a record. Finally, totally at a loss, he sidestepped it altogether, taking refuge in scolding. "`Horizontal tango'? Where'd you pick that up? You gonna start drinking martinis and smoking cigars now, too?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Eeew."

Buffy reappeared in the doorway, cradling a bucket of ice. "Your ice, Your Highness."

"Just saying goodnight to Spike." She hugged him again, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "'Night, Spike."

"'Night, platelet." Dawn bounced out the door. Buffy stayed, watching him.

"Platelet? What's that mean, anyway?"

He grinned at her. "Vampire thing. Platelet, blood, you know."

"She likes you," Buffy said after a moment. "She misses you."

He shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant. "Someone's got to, haven't they?"

Her brow furrowed at that, though he hadn't a clue why. After a brief period of silence, he jerked his head in the direction of the ice bucket. "Ice is melting." _I think_, he added silently.

She looked down. "Oh… yeah. I just wanted to say… well, thanks. I know I haven't--" She stopped, looked uncomfortable, then cleared her throat. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," he replied, as sincerely as he'd ever said anything to her. He smiled a little, knowing that if she didn't leave now, he'd never be able to let her go. "Sleep well, Buffy."

She nodded. "You too." And she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Spike ran a hand tiredly through his hair as he gathered up the remnants of their dinner, piled everything into the garbage bin. Alone again. He had to admit, this new Path of Virtue gig was even more frustrating than he'd thought possible. Good thing it was only temporary. _No wonder no one takes the bloody high road besides Slayers and saints_, he grumbled silently as he switched off the lights and settled himself again on top of the covers. _It fucking sucks_.

Just then, the small rubber bat lying on the bedside table caught his eye_. Well, maybe not all the time_, he amended. He laughed at himself, focused on the flickering television, and let his mind drift.


	5. ... And Night

            He was on his third episode of "Rendez-View" when he heard the keycard sliding into his door on the outside.  He didn't even have time to go on the defensive before he smelled her: vanilla and spice and fresh air, with just the slightest hint of grease in the background.  He watched the handle turn, the door swing open.  And sure enough, there she was, shorts and tank top showing off entirely too much creamy golden skin.  He swallowed thickly.

            "Everything all right?" he asked her, hoping that maybe Dawn just needed more ice cubes.

            "Um… yeah, actually."  She sounded surprised, and she smiled a little.  "Can I come in?"

            _Fucking hell.  Well, he supposed fourteen hours without pain was about as much as a vampire could ask for. _

"If you like.  `Rendez-View' is on."  She was walking towards him.  He tried not to notice.  

"See, there's this firefighter bloke who just wants to meet a--"  And then her lips were on his, her hands framing his face, and all of his brain functions simply shut down.  He let himself sink into it, just for a second, taste that incredible fire that had a sweetness to it now, revel in the fact that she had come to him--

            And then he remembered that she'd hate herself in the morning, and the pain of it hit him like a stake to the heart.  He shot to his feet and pushed her away, more roughly than he'd intended, and heard the bed creak under her weight.  _Oh, wonderful.  Buffy on my bed.  Now there's__ a helpful image.  He stood for a second with his back to her, trying to get his control back.  "Changing the rules, pet," he grated finally.  "I'm just the wheels, remember?"_

            "Spike."  Her tone was almost reproachful.  "Spike, look at me."

            He steeled himself, turned around.  She was sitting calmly on the bed.  He couldn't read the look in her eyes.  "Today was… exactly what I needed."  She seemed to be searching for words.  "And you knew that.  And… you made it happen.  And so I--"

            "Thought you'd fuck me?  Out of gratitude?  Out of pity, 'cause I didn't get my trip to Disneyland?  Well, I've been on that ride already, Slayer, and there's a kick at the end that just gets me every time."  He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Her eyes flashed.  He'd gotten to her, and he hated himself for it, hated her for making him say it.  Spending the night wanting her would've been bad enough; arguing with her was a hundred times worse.  _Thus ends the holiday, he thought grimly._

"That's _not what I meant."  Her voice was low, intense.  "What I'm trying to say, Spike, if you'd shut up for two seconds and let me finish, is that yes, I am grateful to you.  You knew what I needed, and you went to a lot of trouble to make sure I got it.  That means a lot to me.  Especially considering… how things have been between us lately."  He started to say something, but she cut him off.  "Spike, if you don't shut your mouth and let me say this, I swear to God I'll kick your pale English ass right here and now."  _

Even through his frustration, some little corner of his mind was cheering her on.  He loved it when she got all bad-ass and commanding.  He inclined his head to her with a mocking smile, held both hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace.  "All right, luv, no need to get violent.  I'm listening."

She blew her breath out between her teeth, frustrated.  Glaring at him.  "You really do make things incredibly difficult sometimes."  He didn't respond, and she took another deep breath.  "OK.  So I'm grateful.  And it's not the first time I've been grateful to you.  And until today, I haven't really been able to deal with that.  Because we're not supposed to be… close.  You're a vampire.  I'm the Slayer.  You kill my friends, I kill yours.  You don't have a soul.  But somehow you love me.  And I don't understand how that's possible."

He was utterly serious now, all trace of his smile gone.  He'd have been holding his breath if he had any, hanging on every word.  She rose from the bed, came to stand in front of him.

            "And then we kissed, and then we got all… pelvic, that night in that building."  He could see a hint of embarrassment flicker across her face.  "And I liked it.  A lot, actually, though I'm probably going to _seriously regret telling you that."  He grinned at her, but kept his mouth shut.  "And I felt bad for liking it, because it meant you had some power over me, and that scared me.  I didn't know if I could trust you.  I didn't know what would happen if you got the chip out.  I still don't.  And with everything else going on at home, with Dawn and Willow and Xander and Giles and slaying and work and all the rest of it, it was just too much.  Like Dawn said earlier--my brain was full."  He nodded, understanding, and she continued.  "But then we came here, and everything just… went away for awhile.  It was like I'd wanted it to be when I was invisible, only better.  Dawn was happy, and getting to do normal kid stuff, and I didn't have to worry about saving the world or taking care of Willow or wondering why Giles hasn't called.  It was just fun, and easy.  But not bad-easy, like I'm ignoring stuff I should be doing.  It was good-easy.  Like I could be normal for a little while.  And you gave that to me, without asking for anything back, even though I know you wanted to, last night.  And then when Dawn and I came back here today, watching you with her, I realized that here, now… you fit.  You belonged with us."_

            He would've been less shocked if she'd clocked him with a two-by-four.  She laughed a little, presumably at the look on his face.  "Believe me, it was a jump off the old logic bridge for me, too.  And I'm pretty sure that once we go back, it'll get all complicated again, and we'll go right back to wanting to kill each other.  Part of the deal, I think.  Because I've got a lot of stuff I need to figure out back there, and I can't deal with it all at once, and let's face it, you and I aren't exactly in a life-or-death situation here.  And those things have to come first.  But tonight, everything that's been confusing me was just… gone, and it seemed so simple: you could hurt me if you wanted to.  But you haven't.  You've helped me.  You love me, you love Dawn.  She loves you, and I want to be with you.  It feels right.  And it's not like I get these moments of clarity every day, so I didn't want to let it go without at least… telling you."

            They stood there in silence for a moment.  He couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, the wheels in his head spinning on ice as he tried to take it all in.

            "Spike?"  He didn't move.  "Um, you can talk now.  If you want to."

            "I… ah…"  _Women love a man who gibbers, he told himself with disgust.  "Sorry, pet.  Just kind of a sudden U-turn, you know?  I was all set to play the poof and not touch you."  He was silent for a few more seconds, then, "So what you're saying is, you want to go to bed with me, even though you might regret it later?  Not sure I want to play that game anymore, luv.  It hurts both of us."_

            "Well, I don't want to go back to having all these responsibilities again, but I have to.  And we're both taking a risk.  I might regret this tomorrow, you might get a chipectomy tomorrow and go back to being evil.  I don't know.  But being with you, right now, feels right.  And nothing has felt right in a long time.  And if there's anything I've learned in my freak show life, it's that you have to take these moments when you can get them."  She laughed a little.  "Eat, drink, and be merry, 'cause tomorrow you may jump into a dimensional portal to save the world from a crazy hell goddess."

            Spike looked at her, then looked away, mulling it over.  She did still seem calm, and… balanced.  He couldn't think of another word for it.  There was a possibility she might not even stake him in the morning.  After all, she and Dawn did need a ride back to Sunnydale.  Then he realized:  _What the hell is there to think about?  Who are you, bloody Peaches?  The girl wants you.  You want her.  She's offering.  Take her, and damn the consequences. _

            He pinned her with his gaze, gave her his most dangerous smile.  He saw the pulse in her neck speed up.  "Admit it, pet.  You just couldn't resist me."

            Then she laughed, a real laugh, and her mouth was on his and her hands were everywhere and he couldn't think, just murmured incoherent love as they tumbled back onto the bed.

**********************

            Afterwards, to his amazement, she stayed, curled up with her head on his chest and her soft hair tickling his shoulder.  He had to admit that, if this kind of thing was his reward, he'd be willing to take the dreaded Path of Virtue a lot more often.

            She was tracing his bicep lazily with a finger.  "Mmm," she murmured sleepily.  "You're so cool and hard.  Like a statue, all chiseled and perfect."  He froze, afraid if he moved, he'd wake her and she'd stop talking.  He was discovering that half-asleep Buffy was a very good thing.  She giggled.  "What?  I give you a compliment, and you go all freaky on me?  I might do it more often, except that the thing about complimenting you, Spike," and she turned her head so that she was resting her chin on his chest, her eyes meeting his, "is that I can't tell you anything good about yourself that you don't already know, and remind me of on a regular basis.  So what's the point?"

            He growled at her, but his heart wasn't in it.  "You're on dangerous ground, here, Slayer."

            "Ooh, are you going to punish me?" She grinned mischievously.

            He shook his head, laughing in spite of the heat that went straight to his groin.  "Knew you had it in you, Summers.  You act all innocent, but inside, there's a very bad girl just waiting to be let out."

            He kissed her, hard.  She giggled again, and put her head back down on his chest.  He stroked her hair idly.

            "What about you?" she asked after a moment.

            "What about me, pet?"  He was drifting, content, only half-listening.

            "Are you good, or bad?"

            He nearly choked.  "Geez, Slayer, you've got to work up to a question like that.  Can't just throw it in with the pillow talk like you were asking after the weather."  

"Sorry," she replied unrepentantly.  "Love me, love my pillow talk."

He snorted.  But he thought about it anyway.  Finally, "I dunno.  Not a White Hat, really.  Maybe gray, though.  A really dark gray."  He could feel her smile.  Then, nudging her,  "You of all people should know, though, Slayer, things are messier than that.  They don't tend to come all neatly packaged up in black or white."

She sighed.  "I know.  Wish they did, though.  It would make it a lot easier to know who to kill, and who not to kill."

He didn't think he needed to answer that, so he just kept quiet, enjoying the way she felt in his arms.  Her breathing deepened.  She was falling asleep.

"Buffy."  He shook her gently.  He hated to disturb her, but he knew he had to.

"Hmmm?"  She tightened her hold on him.  He felt something twist in his chest.  He couldn't believe he was giving this up.

"Not that I don't want you to stay, luv, but I don't think little sis would be too keen on waking up alone in the middle of the night."

That got her attention.  "Dawn.  Right.  You're right."  She kissed his chest, then sat up, hair tousled and glorious.  She was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in all of his long existence.  "Thank you," she said quietly.

"My pleasure," he replied, raising an eyebrow suggestively.  Then, more seriously, "You too.  This was… I never expected it."

"I know."

"And I won't forget it."

"I know.  Me either."

"If you do, I'll remind you."

She grinned dryly.  "I know.  Probably right in the middle of a screaming match."

"No doubt."  Then, as she seemed to have no intention of moving, "Go.  Before I decide I'm not going to let you."

She nodded, leaned down to kiss him one last time.  Then she stood up, and he watched in silence as she pulled her pajamas back on.  She sighed.  "Back to reality tomorrow."

"Yeah."  No escaping that.

She took a deep breath, moved toward the door.  Then, as she was reaching for the handle, she turned back around.  "This helps, though.  A little."

"I'm glad."

She smiled.  "Good night, Spike."

"Good night, Buffy.  Sleep well."

And then she was gone.  

He was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep.  But it was amazing what kind of a toll shock, anger, bliss, pain, and really good sex could take on even vampire strength.  Mercifully, almost as soon as he collapsed back onto the pillows, he fell into thoughtless blackness.


	6. Reality Bites

Spike glanced at Buffy for what was probably the tenth time in as many minutes. She was slumped against the door of the car, eyes staring sightlessly at the blacked-out windows. She hadn't looked at him or spoken to him for miles.

He was losing her again.

The entire morning had had a kind of desperate, pointless energy to it, from the time Dawn had pounded on his door and hollered something about room service. They'd gotten up too late and ended up bolting down their food, and Buffy and Dawn had argued over the shower, and when he'd suggested--for once in his life, completely without innuendo--that Buffy use his shower, she'd looked at him like he'd just suggested she jump naked and unarmed into a mob of vampires. Not exactly a recommended part of a balanced breakfast, all things considered. 

At least then she'd been looking at him, though. And she'd had the grace to cover her shock with a laugh, as if he'd been joking. It had gotten progressively worse since they'd left the hotel. They'd checked out at the last minute, Dawn and Buffy lugging their armfuls of baggage to the car unassisted while he'd rushed out in his smoking blanket like a mobile baked potato. So much for being normal. Dawn had talked incessantly for the first hour or so of the drive, as if she could prolong the last twenty-four hours by sheer force of will. But finally, she had given up and gone to sleep again in the back seat. A glance at the rear-view mirror revealed that even in sleep, she had a tiny, frustrated crease in the middle of her forehead.

And then there was Buffy. He'd been watching her since they'd hit the road, and he could practically see the worries, the responsibilities dropping back onto her shoulders one by one as the miles passed. _The weight of the world_, he thought sadly. It was a surprisingly physical change--her shoulders slumped, the circles under her eyes returned, even her hair seemed to lose its luster. There was almost no sign of the confident, warm woman who'd giggled and sighed in his arms the night before. In a matter of hours, she'd gone from laughing and vibrant to cold and empty.

It was like watching her die again, in slow motion. And it was tearing his heart out.

He could feel the wall building between them again, too, and his own pain and resentment returning. He found himself wondering what excuse she'd find to live with what she'd said to him during the night, what they'd done. How she'd choose to frame it, how deep the words would cut. And he knew that when it happened, he'd lash out at her, with words or fists, and they'd be right back in the same sodding pattern. As if nothing of the last two days had ever happened.

__

You knew what the risks were, mate, he told himself firmly. _You wanted to give her two days, and you did. And you got a little something for yourself in return, more than you deserve. But from the beginning, you knew it couldn't be forever._

And at least, on those days when he was ready to kill himself or her or both, he'd know that for one night, she'd been happy with him, and they'd been good together. She'd try to deny it, try to twist it, but he'd know. And that was something, anyway.

__

"This helps," she'd said. _"A little."_

A little. He'd just have to hold on to that.

He pulled into the driveway of the Summers' house, in time to get them home before Red came back and realized just who had provided the wheels for this little trip. He set the brake, turned the key in the ignition. Holiday officially over.

Buffy reached back and nudged Dawn. "We're back, Dawn. Time to go."

"Leave me 'lone," Dawn whined. Buffy's mouth narrowed into a thin, hard line.

"Come on, Dawny. You've got homework to finish. You promised."

"_Fine_." Dawn ducked away from her sister's hand, flounced her way out of the car. Spike looked at Buffy.

"I'd give you a hand with the bags, luv, but--"

"I know, I know. Sunburn." She didn't move to get out of the car, though, and he cocked his head to the side a little, confused. "It's… it's so _much_. I forgot how much it is."

He swallowed. "I want to help, Buffy, if you'll let me."

For a split second, he thought she might agree. But then she shook her head. "It's mine. My responsibility." There was a brief silence. "It was nice while it lasted. But now it's over." She opened the door abruptly, stepped out of the car.

"Come on, Dawn," he heard her saying. "If you want help with your homework, we'll have to do it soon. I've got to work tonight."

"I want to say goodbye to Spike." The pout was obvious, even though he couldn't see her.

"Well, hurry up then. I'll see you inside." He heard her footsteps moving away. Suddenly, Dawn flung herself through the passenger door and pressed her face into his shoulder. He could feel her tears through his t-shirt.

"It'll be all right, Little Bit." His hand went to her hair automatically.

"I don't… I don't know if it helped, Spike," she sobbed. "I thought it did, but now I don't know."

__

This helps. A little.

"I don't know either," he told her, honestly. "But… I think it did. It'll just take time, pet. We've got to be patient."

"Patience sucks," she muttered rebelliously. He chuckled.

"You're a girl after my own heart, platelet. Now go on. Your sister's waiting. And you're mussing my shirt."

That got a tiny laugh out of her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Then she nodded, wiped her eyes, and got out of the car. He had just enough time to see her square her shoulders determinedly before she shut the passenger door and was gone.

Through the small clear space in the windshield, he watched them walk into the house together. They were strong. They'd get through this.

He just hoped that he could.

END


End file.
